Coming Into My Own
by James-Padfoot
Summary: This ‘missing moment’ takes place after chapter ‘In A Starry Glade’  but before ‘Red Blade, White Blade’, during Eldest. Oneshot. Features, Eragon, Saphira, and thoughts of Arya.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon. That wonderful **_**honor**_** goes to ShaPaoPao (you know him as Christopher Paolini.) Rejoice. **

**Summary: This 'missing moment' takes place after chapter 'In A Starry Glade' but before 'Red Blade, White Blade', during the second brick, Eldest. **

(Coming) Into My Own

_Who am I?_

Three simple words, one small question, yet it was not a question Eragon could answer cavalierly nor lightly. In fact, he found that on most days, he couldn't answer it at all; and more so today, for he had not slept at all, but had simply lay in a state of awareness, never truly sleeping. This was of course, not for his lack of trying. He had never truly appreciated the beauty of sleep before, for it had been something so natural, and therefore he had taken it for granted.

It was but a small price to pay for what he had gained, but still, Eragon felt a lost so profound because he had lost something so simple. He could not quite explain it himself, could not explain it to Saphira in words, yet she had understood. She was not affected by this inability to sleep, and she did not close her mind to him, so that if he chose to, he could lose himself in her thoughts, her dreams. But he did not. He could not dream anymore, lose himself in un-chartered thoughts; but he had once, and could think of hundreds of reason why he would not want anyone perusing his unmanned thoughts when he was so blissfully asleep.

And so as he sat by a shallow, clear blue stream that was yards away from the Menoa tree, he wondered what the nights would be like. He was a dragon-rider, and now he possessed elfin features, features he was not sure the extent or potent of, and assumed that he had many more moons and winters to go before he would follow Brom, Garrow and his mother into the next world. Assuming of course, that Galbatorix did not find him first…

'_Perhaps I should not think so much, for it has only been one night since Agaeti Blodhren, but yet it feels like so much time has passed and at the same time, none at all. Only one night since I have caused much damage to the relationship with the very beautiful Arya…' _

And such was Eragon thoughts, clear and aware of that around him, yet so internally confused. He knew, beyond doubt, that he would find peace soon. He would soon become one with the world, yet for now, tonight, he could not. He could not until he mourned all he had lost, rejoiced in what he had gained. Oromis had commented much upon the vanity of elves, and Eragon could clearly understand why, for he had now become like them. Still… in his soul, in his body, a young farmer boy named Eragon, just Eragon, with no prefixes nor titles still resided… He was less vivid, less poignant, and he was fading fast.

In his place, a new Eragon was taking over, starting from the heart of the silver _gedway ignasia_ in which the dragon had touched, during the _Agaeti Blodhren_.

'_This is who I am supposed to be. This is who I want to be, and who I will become.'_

Miles away from Eragon, a young dragon did not open her eyes nor make any indication that she was no longer sleeping. Instead, she fell deeper into her mind, seeking out a troubled connection that was familiar to her as her own deep breaths.

Saphira, who loved and cared for Eragon deeply, did not alert her rider and twin of her presence. Eragon was open and vulnerable; she used her mind to shield his, becoming the invincible wall around his thoughts as he came to terms with the person he was becoming. A fine person, but it was a quick change, a transformation in a blink of an eye, and Saphira understood that Eragon still possessed weaknesses that he would need to come to terms with.

She was changing too, growing as he did, learning when he did. She had chosen him, so she would not forsake him when he needed her, and she knew he would never do the same to her… ever again. He had been young then, burdened with the grief of losing his uncle… He was not the same boy, he was a man now, and he was coming to see that.

She felt Eragon settling down, closing his eyes and allowing the state of where he tethered neither between being sleep or awake to consume him. Saphira gradually allowed her fortress of protection around his mind to crumble, for she was assured now that he would be safe.

Half an hour later, she checked again. All was well. And so, she returned back to sleep, for it was not hard to come by in such a peaceful place.

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Written for A-S community livejournal. You may comment, if you like. Or if you don't like. Freedom of speech you know… 


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